


Leda and the Swan

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, debauchery and art, hannigail, why hasn't anyone written about that damn painting yet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal enjoys both eating women and *eating women.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leda and the Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, my first publication on Ao3! It's not particularly long or spectacular, but it might help scratch the Hannigail itch many of us seem to suffer from... 
> 
> (I'm making Abigail at least 18 in this fic, just so you know.)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Abigail Hobbs stood in the dining room after savoring a particularly fine meal (and a particularly interesting debate about the work of Debussy versus that of Queen) while he stayed in the kitchen doing God-knows-what. 

For the first time ever, she decided to really take in the décor he had chosen—starting with a particularly obscene painting that hung proudly on the wall opposite her. 

“Leda and the Swan, perhaps one of my favorite paintings…”

He sauntered over to her, wine glass in hand and a smirk on his face. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit…much for the dining room, Hannibal?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I think it’s a work of fine art that deserves to be admired accordingly.”

“But that bird is about to go down on some woman!”

“’That bird’ is a swan, Abigail, but more than that, it is Zeus in disguise. He’s trying to seduce a mortal woman Leda, and manages to succeed in the end.”

“So he chooses to be a bird—sorry, swan—out of all possible manifestations?”

“Are you saying that you are not fond of swans?” He eyes her inquisitively, taking another sip of his vintage cabernet, which somehow managed to match his necktie, of all things. 

“They’re really pretty, but I don’t want one anywhere near me like that… That Leda girl must've had some really weird tastes.”

He laughs.

“Since a swan is out of the question, what would you say to a person pleasing you in such a way?”

He places his wine glass on the table and in an instant, is lifting Abigail by the hips and placing her on the table.

“Hannibal, I—“

Standing between her open knees, he swoops in and kisses her hard on the mouth. She can taste the bitter tang of wine on his lips as they crash into hers, and she finds this dominant, aggressive version of him most delightful. 

His hand is up her skirt before long, rubbing against the cotton of her panties. She presses into his steady fingers. 

“I would be willing to pleasuring you in such a fashion, if you’d allow it.”

“Oh, yes, please, Hannibal—“

Her panties are discarded and drop to the floor without so much as a second thought. Hannibal kneels in front of her and pulls her forward roughly so that her skirt becomes bunched up around her hips and she is dangerously close to pressing up against her lover’s nose. He smirks. It has been a long time since he has indulged in this particular act, and Abigail promises to be a most enjoyable participant. 

With the first brush of his lips, she is keening and gripping the edge of the table with powder-white knuckles. He spreads her with two teasing fingers and breathes in her scent. Oh, it really had been too long! Hannibal is a man who enjoys taste, and there is nothing quite like the warm, musky taste of a woman.

The way his tongue traces up and down her center is surprisingly gentle. Delicious. Like everything he does, he is precise, measured, and dizzying skillful. Abigail nearly swoons at the sight of her normally reserved psychiatrist burying his face between her thighs, eyes closed in blissful concentration. 

It is difficult to decipher which party is enjoying this tryst the most—while Abigail sighs and squeaks and throws her head back, Hannibal savors her taste and hums his approval while his arousal grows against the front of his pants. 

“Hannibal, I…oh God, Hannibal!”

She groans in a most wanton manner and pulls her head closer to her aching sex, desperate for more…something. 

She whines when he moves away and looks up at her. She truly is a sight—all wild hair and flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. He secretly hopes that nobody else gets to see her, his Abigail, the way he gets to see her now. 

“Why did you— oh!” He slips a finger into her, and her eyes grow wide. His mouth twists into a devilish smile as he begins ever-so-gently thrusting the single digit in and out. The sensation is foreign, to be sure, but there is something very intimate and enjoyable about being so close to him. 

He lowers once more, and she is reduced to putty. While his mouth ravishes her most sensitive part, he slips another finger inside her and relishes the moan that is ripped from her throat. He feels her begin to clench.

She climaxes with a deep, animalistic groan. Hannibal retreats as she comes so he can watch her chest heave with frantic gasps with her head tipped back so far that he can only see to the point of her chin. She is beautiful, she is rapturous, and she is decidedly his.  
He removes his now-slick fingers and removes his handkerchief. Abigail catches a glimpse of the wetness—her wetness—glistening on his face before he quickly cleans it off, and feels strangely proud. He is Hannibal Lecter, the man who answers to no one, and she had brought him to his knees for her pleasure. 

“Allow me,” he says, pressing the handkerchief to her sore sex. He cleans her with caution, careful not to overstimulate her aching clitoris, and she smiles.

“You know, Doctor Lecter,” she says after he finishes, “I have come to a conclusion.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She pulls him to her and kisses him on the mouth, tasting herself slightly on his lips.

“Maybe that Leda girl wasn’t so weird after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it. I hope it didn't totally suck!


End file.
